


Don't shoot

by mjeff



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, One Shot, Short One Shot, Unrequited Love, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 06:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20903033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjeff/pseuds/mjeff
Summary: Crowley is ordered to the trenches and he hates it.





	Don't shoot

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE KEEP THE TAGS IN MIND! This is a fic set during WW1 so if you feel like you don't want to read about anything involving death and depressive topics please skip this fic!  
For those who remained: I don't think it's that hard of a read. My focus was more on sharing my idea.

Crowley hated the trenches and the War. Even Hell was a better place to stay at than the slim tunnels in the ground filled with mud, sickness and death. It was Beelzebub's order to madden the soldiers and urge them to be bloodthirsty. But Crowley couldn't do that. The broken spirits of every man that was ordered to the front, the hopelessness in their eyes and the resignation was enough burden in Crowley's book. As much as he wanted to help out with his own miracles he knew he would get in trouble if Bellow found out he used it in favour of the people. Besides, humans brought this on themselves. More or less. He was certain the actual participants of the war wished for a rather peaceful political discussion than deadly violence.

It's been a while since he heard from Aziraphale. Just half a year ago in France when the war hadn't yet started. Crowley was visiting for some crepes when he told the serpent that he could feel something big and bad coming. He worried for the friends he made and all the civilians. Aziraphale was an angel amongst angels, Crowley thought, so kind and loving towards the creatures of Earth.  
Crowley at the time had some business to do in Germany so when he ended up recruited for the war he was sent to the Western Front right away. He was a demon, he should have enjoyed this. Yet there he was, disgusted by what humanity was capable of.

He was given the role of a sniper. He kept up the illusion of doing the job but his bullets never hit a single target. He mostly worked alone but he did have a partner on rare occasions. The other man was silent, neither of them felt the need to exchange words. Even if they wanted to, what can you talk about while shooting other human beings?

It was in the early morning hours. People in the trench were preparing for an early surprise attack ordered by the general. Crowley was ordered to get ready with his partner to shoot if the panicked enemy puts their heads high enough to get shot.  
They got grenades ready and threw them from multiple directions at once. The soldiers throwing them were excellent, landing the majority right inside the trenches.  
Boom.  
And boom.  
Loud explosion after another. Panicked screams and shouting could be heard from the enemy followed by frantic preparing. The ones ordered to look out to report were shot by the man standing next to Crowley.  
'There is the medic! What a fool!' he heard the man's voice from his side.  
Crowley turned to look and indeed the enemy's medic was poking out of the trench's top, desperately pulling a wounded back to the minimal safety of the ditch. But he looked oddly familiar. Curvy body, not fit for war at all, white fluffy hair under the helmet, pointy nose...  
Crowley froze.  
'DON'T SHOOT!!' he screamed but the sniper already let a bullet fly directly into the chest.  
The medic stumbled down back into the ditch.  
'NONONO YOU IDIOT NO!' Crowley's sudden reaction and his cracking voice scared the sniper, who didn't understand it one bit.

And then time stopped. Nobody knew how or why, nor did they notice really, since the whole World seemingly froze in one place.  
Crowley was running through No Man's Land, fighting tears and panting all the way to the enemy trench. He stumbled down into it almost breaking a leg and made his way towards where the medic was shot.  
He was shaking and bleeding badly, barely alive.  
'Aziraphale! You madman what the fuck are you doing here?!' Crowley bursted out, crouching down into the mud next to the shot angel.  
'I'm sorry. I just wanted to help. He was important to me, I felt terrible and scared, I wanted to help, I-' he sputtered, struggling to breathe.  
'War is no place for you! You damn... damn angel! Why do you have to be so kind hearted!' Crowley cried.  
He felt a cold hand soothingly sink into his hair.  
'Crowley, what's the matter? I will come back. I'll just... discorporate. It just hurts alot.'  
'That doesn't mean it's any less painful to watch you die!'  
Crowley wept quietly as Aziraphale slowly disappeared from his hands.

He couldn't hold time anymore. He sniffed and before everything started up again he grabbed the wounded soldier Aziraphale was trying to save and vanished with him from the battlefield.  
They reappeared in a cozy cottage on a french countryside, Crowley now in a french general's outfit. The place was quiet and calm, away from the war. He put the man down onto the couch. He performed a miracle on his broken arm and almost completely torn off left leg. The soldier soon awakened, confused by the environment he was in and frightened by Crowley who he had never seen before.  
'W-Where am I? What happened?' he muttered. 'I was just inside our trench a moment ago...'  
'You are in no danger here and I'm sending you off to America. You'll be safe there. Safe from the war.'  
'America?' he gulped, worried. 'But... everything that I have is here.'  
'You either accept my offer or you are on your own.' Crowley stated impatiently, way too upset by what happened moments ago to put up with all this.  
The soldier looked at him with a wounded expression.  
'Can I at least say bye to my lover? He... he was in the military too. Wait! Could he come with me?'  
Crowley's face stayed expressionless.  
'Who may that be?'  
'Ah... his name is Aziraphale. Medic. I remember seeing him last night giving out food to us. Is he alright?'  
There was something inside Crowley's throat. A huge lump making him choke on his words and feel like throwing up. A wave of emotion washed over him, almost almost sending him crumbling down onto the ground. He forced himself to take a deep breath and turned his back to the soldier.  
'He had been shot.'  
Silence followed his statement for a few minutes. Small sobs came from the man and upon hearing them Crowley's eyes started to water as well. It took an hour until the soldier was ready to go, eyes red from crying with a broken expression on his face. When they went to exit the house, suddenly the door opened to a dock, the man not questioning it at this point. There was a lot of people running around and boarding ships.  
'That's your ship.' Crowley pointed. 'Here is your ticket and some cash to start your new life. Off you go!'  
The man took a few steps but before he disappeared from Crowley's sight he turned:  
'Thank you. Stay safe.' and with that he walked away.

Crowley was back in that french cottage, laying drunk on the couch. Jealousy burned inside his chest accompanied by anger and sadness. But his mind was trying his best to calm his aching heart. Aziraphale wasn't his, this shouldn't be a surprise. Yet the questions just kept coming. Maybe he should have been more straightforward? Did the angel really miss his hints? Was he not good enough?  
He sent the remaining alcohol down his throat in one go and rolled onto his stomach, waiting for something to happen. Anything really, he didn't care.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any critique is welcomed :)


End file.
